


And They Were In Quarantine! ...Separately D:

by smokingbomber



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: COVID-19, Coronavirus, F/M, Fluff, Quarantine, Shitennou mention, actually two rude words lol, alas, im not changing it to "jerk", no beta we die like prince endymion, one rude word, which makes it not Everyone rated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokingbomber/pseuds/smokingbomber
Summary: coronavirus fic :P it's really quiet, don't worry. imagine it's really late at night, okay, and there's only sounds of typing and a big old clock, tick tock tick tock.
Relationships: Chiba Mamoru/Tsukino Usagi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 98





	And They Were In Quarantine! ...Separately D:

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antigone2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigone2/gifts).



"This isn't fair. I could just... henshin and take the rooftops over," said Usagi to her screen instead of the camera, slouched in front of her laptop in her comfiest pajamas. She idly stirred the melted ice cream at the bottom of her pint carton, watching Mamoru type as he kept doing his university homework. Why did doctors in training have to write papers anyway? She squinted at him.

Without looking up, Mamoru spoke distractedly as he continued to type, albeit more slowly. "There's no... guarantee. That transforming can... protect you? From the virus." He frowned at something on the screen, then made a frustrated face and backspaced. "Just a second, let me finish this paragraph."

"Sorry," said Usagi, melting further down in her chair, mentally one with the sad remains of her ice cream. The small of her back was almost at the edge of her chair cushion, and she tapped her spoon quietly against the rim of the carton. Finally she just gave up and drank the gooey dregs. 

"'Sfine," said Mamoru absently, and then his fingers paused over the keyboard as he reread the paragraph, and he glanced over-- she knew by now, by where his eyes went, that he was saving.

The Senshi of Mystery and Pillowfights was starting to zone out just looking at her fiance's eyes when he shifted his gaze to where her image was on his screen, and then he looked at the camera so she could feel like he was looking at her. She knew he did it, she appreciated it, but it was an annoying limitation of technology that he was just... Mamoru about, and she loved it but always felt guilty when she didn't remember to do it. 

"*I'm* sorry," Mamoru said gently, with a warm affection that Usagi could feel like a hug, even on the other side of Azabu-Juuban. "I'm sorry I can't be there, and you can't come over. If you came over you'd have to stay, and as appealing as that may sound, all your stuff is where you are and you can't just go out and buy it all over again."

"But why can't you come over and stay *here*?" asked Usagi before biting her lip. Curling in on herself a little, she shifted again: one foot up and back on the front rung of the chair, the end of her tied-up hair handy to play with. She tried not to sound petulant. "It's not like you can get sick. You're a healer. You could just heal it, right?"

"It's a virus, not an injury or a, a chemical imbalance or something. It's not *mine*, it's an external thing that gets inside. If I tried to heal it I'd just make it stronger. All I can do is suppress the symptoms--" He broke off, glancing down from the camera to Usagi's face.

He cringed as he saw her expression transform.

"You have it," she said quietly. "You have it. When were you going to tell me?"

"I honestly forgot," Mamoru said, leaning back and hugging his arms to his chest. He looked at the screen again for a second, then at the camera-- he couldn't see her, but he knew she could read his eyes. "I only noticed it two hours ago and I had this paper due--"

"You *forgot*, though?? Mamo-chan! Global pandemic and you *forgot*. Why didn't you just tell me when you found--" 

Usagi stopped herself. Why didn't he? He had a paper due, and he knew she would freak out and argue about it, and maybe he thought it'd be better for her to be mad than scared. She decided she was scared anyway, and that that was an understandable but dirty trick, so she wasn't going to let him get his avoidance or his weird psychological guilt-mitigation techniques. She would not be a party to that bullshit, not *this* time.

She let herself be scared instead. "Nevermind that," she bit out, then hunkered down and did very nearly vicious things to the ends of her hair. "You can suppress all the symptoms? Including the dying one?"

"--" Mamoru was obviously about to explain to her that dying wasn't a symptom but a result, or something like that, but then equally obviously decided against it. "Yes. But-- I'm still infectious, no matter how many times I wash my hands or whether or not I wear a mask. And sure, you could say you'd be careful too, and that if we were both careful then I wouldn't get you sick, but--"

"But when's the last time we could keep our hands off each other," finished Usagi, looking away and shifting in the chair to bring both her feet up and hug her legs. "We are not adults who have self-control." She paused. "In that, anyway." Then she fell quiet and watched him.

Mamoru didn't say anything, just sat there with his hands in his lap, looking away from the screen. Not looking at anything, really-- staring into space. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Usagi spoke again.

"Two weeks?"

Mamoru shook his head. "Two weeks is what they're giving for an estimated potential incubation period. That's how long it could take for the symptoms to show up. I don't know how long it'll take me to get rid of it, and I might have to let myself get sick to do it. I promise not *very* sick."

Usagi was quiet and still for a moment, then buried her face in her knees. She said something muffled, and when she didn't repeat it, Mamoru leaned forward.

"What was that?"

She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and too-bright. "I said you're a dick."

"I know."

"I love you anyway."

"I kn-- I mean, I love you too." A tiny little puff of a laugh, and then Mamoru paused, hesitant, expression partly clearing. "Do you want me to tell you a story?"

"Yes," said Usagi in a small voice. She reached to plug in her external speakers and turn them into surround-sound Mamo-chan-voice-emitters. "Yes, I do." She pushed the laptop back so she could see him better, then crossed her arms on her desk and leaned her chin on them, briefly looking at the camera, then back at his face. "About you and your rocks-box boy band. In Elysion."

Mamoru snorted, looked behind him, and grinned as he leaned closer to the screen, voice lower. "So, Jadeite had this awful horse--"

If she could see him grinning like that, if he *could* grin like that, then Usagi could believe everything was going to be okay.


End file.
